


A Valent-AI-ne's Day to FORGET

by Chyme



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: #Aiballweek2020, Chocolate, Established Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyme/pseuds/Chyme
Summary: Hayami is dreading this year’s Valentine’s Day. Little does she know, it’s about to get a whole lot worse, thanks to the Dark Ignis.{Aiball week 2020 - February 14th: V-Ai-lentine’s Day // Purple  }
Relationships: Ai | Ignis/Fujiki Yuusaku, Hayami/Zaizen Akira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	A Valent-AI-ne's Day to FORGET

Hayami looks at the date on her phone. Then lets it clatter to the desktop. And rather promptly stifles the dramatic urge she has to bury her face in her hands.

 **Because!** She. Is. At. Work! AND she is a full-grown professional woman who Zaizen depends on, one who no longer races round at his heels, desperate for scraps of his approval and constantly on the lookout for those dark rings around his eyes. It’s embarrassing to remember how all too eager she sometimes still is to bring him a cup of coffee just so she can bask in that slight smile he might, _might_ give her in return and-

Hayami groans and this time she _does_ give into the urge to bury her face in her hands. _It’s okay_ , she tells herself. She’s currently tackling a rather horrible report concerning a breakdown in the firewall to one of Vrains’ outer sectors, so it’s understandable that she’s feeling a little, well, weak at the moment! She’s not slacking off, she’s not!

But still. That number, that horrible number on the lock-screen of her phone, which doesn't really register to her until she hears a titter from one of her female colleges and a mention from another of having to buy sugar after work and hopefully a ‘pan that this time won’t burn all that chocolate before I have time to scoop it out!’

Hayami pictures it. That awful, awful date, the crisp clear image of the thirteen on her phone.

For tomorrow is the fourteenth of February. Valentine’s Day. And she hasn’t a thing prepared.

\--------------------------

Hayami has made things for boys before. In school she shoved shoddily made chocolates into lockers, concealing the half-melted one inside envelopes she would beg other students to deliver for her. She’d like to think, really, that time has chipped off the layers of self-doubt she’d had back then and that _this_ time, she could give a gift to Zaizen without having to get a third-party involved.

Because it’s not that that she expects him to return her crush, exactly. Because she knows, doesn’t she, that though he’s kind, he’s also distant and far more focused on Aoi and the few years she has left living under his roof before she flies off into her own adult life, so much so, that other women in his life only register in his eyes as well...other people. And not as dating partners. And that’s fine! Great, even!

But! He’s the kind of man who will take the time to get her something into return for White Day, she’s sure of it! And wouldn’t that be something, right? The great Zaizen, giving her, plain Hayami, chocolates!

Even so, when Hayami leaves work, her heart ends up feeling heavier than her shoes. And she takes exceptional care not to look in the shop windows as she passes, not wanting to see the round child-like shape of her eyes, or the dull waves of her hair, so plain and un-exotic compared to the colourful blend that Ema’s is, for example. Oh yes, she’s seen the way that woman talks to Zaizen sometimes, elbows casually looped over the handles of her bike, chest proudly displayed over the bars with effortless confidence. And compared to her, Hayami is... _Hayami_. The girl people’s eyes pass over quickly, the one who is _ignored._

Hayami puts a little too much force into her next step, eyes furiously directed away from a bulging red paper heart in the window next to her. And then horror overtakes her as her foot lands on something a little less hard than the pavement, something that gives way under her foot slightly, a boot that crinkles and creases beneath her heels as the owner above lets out a yelp as though he’s been shot.

‘OW! Hey, hey, watch it, stupid!’

‘Oh, I’m so sor-’

And then there’s a deadly silence. Hayami hasn’t even bothered to finish her apology, for now her eyes are currently locked with the slightly shocked, but quickly narrowing gaze of the Dark Ignis in his SOLtiS form who is apparently _meant_ to be dead, but clearly is _not_ , and who unlike her, _had_ been distracted by the overdone red heart in the window.

Hayami stares and stares, that golden gaze in front of her getting narrower by the second, and then she squeaks as the Ignis seizes her arm, casually looping it within his own before setting off into a quick march, his hand giving her own shell-shocked one a gentle pat, as though they’re really lovers.

Hayami stumbles, fear racing through her. She could scream for help and if the Dark Ignis were a human she certainly would. But Hayami is not stupid; she remembers how easily he rendered her unconscious on the plane when she failed to protect Zaizen, and she’s seen enough of the hospital reports regarding Kurosagi Jin, and enough footage of the Bohman incident and the data readings involved, to know just what damage this being could wreck against her mind if he so chose.

So she digs deep inside herself and tries to kindle what little courage she can feel within her chest.

‘Where are we going...’ she mutters, keeping her voice pointedly low. And flinches as he darts a quick, almost amused look at her.

‘Huh. For a SOLtech employee you aren’t that stupid, are you? That’s a relief; dealing with a screamer would have been a pain.’ And then his face falls with almost comical disappointment. ‘Although, it would have been nice to try out that move I saw that bounty hunter in that ‘Dying Harder’ movie do...’

It takes Hayami a moment to focus on what he’s actually saying, and when she does so, she blanches. ‘You don’t have any syringes!’

Ai grins at her and waves his free hand at her pointedly, before letting a single finger - the same finger in fact he used to render her unconscious before - rise warningly. ‘I don’t need one of those contraptions, remember?’

Hayami flinches as that finger comes to rest lightly, almost tenderly, on her brow. But there’s no jolt of slight pressure like there was last time, and the Ignis’s smirk widens, almost cruelly as he lifts it away. ‘Don’t worry; I was actually referring to that whole performance of him claiming his victim was diabetic and had fainted from blood-loss. But eh, I suppose carrying you would have been a pain.’

Hayami can’t quite stop herself from pouting. ‘I’m not that heavy. Besides; you don’t get tired.’

The Dark Ignis raises a brow. ‘You’d be surprised. Then again I am just _data_ to you and all your murderous buddies’- the inflection he gives to the word ‘data’ sounds almost disgusted- ‘so I suppose it’s understandable. Well. For a bunch of scaredy cats anyway.’

Hayami gives her arm an experimental tug, despite the way his eyes narrow at her in response.

‘Hey, hey, none of that now! Or I really will have to give you a bit of _this._ ’ He wiggles the finger pointedly, almost as though he’s chiding a child.

Hayami grimaces. This is ridiculous! She’s head of security and she may be small, but she is _not_ a helpless victim. So survival tip number one: build a repartee with the other party. In this case, it would probably mean using that name ‘Ai’ instead of the rather de-personifying one of ‘Dark Ignis.’

‘Ai,’ she says cautiously, hating the way her voice wavers and the way he peers at her curiously while she does so. ‘This...isn’t going to have a happy ending for either of us if you don’t let me go. No matter what you do, I will have family looking for me. And Zaizen has a contract with the company that manages security cameras in this district; you no longer have access to SOLtech’s keys, and we’ve changed all the codes since the last time you did, so you can’t simply edit the footage as you like.’

Ai laughs and raises a hand in a friendly wave to a taxi that pulls up to the kerb beside them. Kind of pointless perhaps, since Hayami can see the dull green glow on the neck of the driver marking him out as a SOLtiS. Then again, maybe the Dark-...maybe Ai can communicate with them in ways she can’t, so who’s to say there isn’t some sort of wireless communication going on right now? It would certainly explain how he got a taxi to turn up so quickly...

‘You really think the victims of the Lost Incident didn’t have families looking for them when they were kidnapped?’ he asks, almost merrily, though there’s a sardonic twist to his mouth as he bundles her inside the taxi. ‘And as to the other thing, what makes you think those cameras are working probably now?’ He grins. ‘There’s more security codes involved with their installation that the ones SOLtech is in charge of. And all I have to do is alter one of the settings to blur the visual quality of the film for example...’

Hayami suppresses a shudder. Don’t people only unveil their plans when they’re planning to get rid of the listening party for good? So she finds herself clenching her knees tightly, creased rivers running into her smart trousers as she asks, very quietly, ‘what are you going to do with me?’

Ai looks at her. Pats her on the hand again. And smiles. The worse part of it all is how gentle he sounds when he tells her to: ‘ _relax_. I’m not the bad guy today. In fact, I may even do you a favour if you behave...’

Hayami shivers in her seat.

\--------------------------

Hayami stares at the table. It’s round and wooden, almost western, and it hogs up almost all the space in the kitchen as Ai dances round it, humming merrily to himself. Crinkles form in her brow as she vaguely recognises the tune from an old anime she used to watch in high school. A rather girly one.

‘Bingo!’ Ai whips out a wooden spoon, yanks out a bowl, and then spins and shoves it into Hayami’s arms. ‘Here, make yourself useful.’

Hayami stares down at the table, at the assortment of baking moulds and large rectangular blocks of chocolate littering the table. Milk, dark, and strawberry, the flavours are proudly unveiled across the packaging, and scattered in amongst this mess are the decorative icing pens that are so popular at this time of year – Ai appears to have opted for the purple ones, rather than the more traditional pink or white ones...she didn’t even know they sold purple ones...

Oh, and of course, there are pink-coloured chocolate chips and sprinkles, as well as a few glasses and a piping bag placed perilously on the edge...

In short, the whole table looks a little like the one she may have created when she was fifteen.

Still humming, Ai ties his hair back white a traditional-looking white cloth and then bustles round Hayami to whip hers back in the same fashion with surprisingly deft fingers. Hayami finds herself flinching again, hair now veiled and falling away behind her ears like a bride, before, without wasting a beat, Ai pulls the bowl from her stunned fingers and then flings a plain white apron over her head.

‘Be kinda hard to explain how you got chocolate all over your nice suit tomorrow,’ he mutters half to himself, though the performance he makes of his statement, hand cradling his chin and rubbing it faux thoughtfully feels a great deal like it’s for her benefit rather than his. But still. Apparently she does indeed have a ‘tomorrow’ waiting for her. That’s nice.

Ai then whips another out another apron, purple this time, and not nearly so plain, with a rather striking image of Decode Talker blazing across it – very him, some small rebellious part of Hayami’s brain thinks daringly. Thinking it looks all cool when really it’s clunky and in desperate need of someone to rip that overly long sword out of its hand...

‘Uh-uh-uh!’ Ai tuts at her, wigging his finger under her nose. ‘Wipe that look off your face! We’re making Valentine’s chocolates! I can’t have you planning any sort of rebellion while we’re playing around with hot water...’

As though to stress his point, Ai pours a maddening amount of boiling water from the kettle into a bigger bowl, a transparent one, muttering a rather sheepish and ridiculously sounding ‘oops’ when some of the hot water sloshes out over the side in his vigorous haste.

...This is not building wonders for Hayami’s confidence.

‘Whose house is this?’ she asks to distract herself. She’dvbeen a little too shell-shocked when Ai had dropped them both off here, pushing her up the garden path and then casually wrecking the lock with a few sparks from his finger.

Ai gives her a devilish grin. ‘Certainly not mine!’ He laughs at her stormy expression. ‘Relaaaax, they’re out on a business trip for the next few days...or rather they’re out together on a _naughty_ trip to the coast, just in time for Valentines.’ He grins sharp and fey. ‘Can’t imagine why.’

Great. Now Hayami’s party to trespassing in someone else’s home like a common burglar...in order to make Valentine’s Day chocolate with an AI.

‘And who are _these_ ’- she points at the mess on the table. ‘Going to be for?’

 _Certainly not you_ , she thinks as Ai narrows his eyes at her.

‘Would you believe me if I said they were for the mighty Playmaker-sama?’ he asks and Hayami blinks because. Huh. Well, actually she would. Ai does seem to have harboured some sort of fondness for that person, and maybe this is all some convoluted sort of gratitude gift? She can accept that the Ignis after all was said and done were incredibly intricate and advanced forms of artificial intelligence, but there’s still quite a step between that and experiencing romantic love for a human.

Ai frowns at her, as though picking up on her thoughts.

‘Come on, get to it!’

He practically slams the bowl of hot water down, as gently as possible onto the table, though Hayami still winces at the loud clunk of noise it makes. And rather dutifully she finds herself ripping opens bars of chocolate, crisply cracking the square shapes into slanted pieces and then dropping them into another other bowl. Ai, for his part, rather enthusiastically slams her work into the sides of said bowl with a spoon, before he lifts it into the bowl of boiling water and eagerly watches the pieces droop and melt.

Honestly, it’s a little like watching a small child cook for the first time. And in another world, perhaps Hayami would find the sight cute.

Not in this one though, especially when Ai forcefully drops the melted chocolate into the piping bag, trying the top into a knot, before pushing out dollops of chocolate into heart-shaped moulds, all with the crazed grin of a serial killer.

And so on and on it goes, Hayami’s hands working steadily, breaking chocolate apart into cleaner bowls she finds, the pattern deviating slightly, when Ai pours the third melted pool of dark chocolate into circular moulds, ones which form little steel domes on the underside of the tray. And then he promptly tilts the tray upside down to let some of the chocolate fall from the mould in heavily slow ribbons of wavering brown. With a look of intense concentration on his face, he quickly tilts the tray upright again, so that only hollow little shells remain.

Hayami watches curiously as he repeats the process for a new tray, and then pours something out of a purple pipette into the shells of the original one.

‘Mmm...I’ve no idea if Mr Playmaker is going to like violet cream filling but eh...’

He gently pushes the shells from each tray out with small, inhumanly precise taps against the bottom, and then attempts to slam the shells from one fallen tray onto another with a squeeze of his fingers. The results are varied. Some end up half crushed, which he glares at and mutters furiously to himself about ‘nasty physics’ while others turn into highly polished chocolates, the purple cream carefully concealed inside; and each time one of these is produced it causes a delighted smile to spread across his face.

Eventually, when this is done and he lovingly places each one inside a tin, he turns back with a wild grin and shoves a decorating pen at Hayami.

‘You can have those ones!’ he remarks glibly, pointing at a batch of twelve heart-shaped chocolates still sitting in their moulds. ‘And I’ll take the rest.’

And now he pointedly ignores her, choosing to wildly scribble all manner of atrocities on the remaining hearts, including the curved patterns that used to infuse his old Ignis body. Some even have detailed sketches of his old Ignis head on them.

Hayami meanwhile is left staring blankly at twelve hearts she has helped make.

‘Oh come on!’ She looks at Ai who has paused, mid-flow in scribbling the phrase ‘this is as sweet as me!’ on one heart, to glare at her in exasperation. ‘Just write 'Zaizen' on them or something.’

Hayami flushes and Ai gives her a smirk. A knowing one. Knowing enough for Hayami to almost wish she had the courage to throw the pen at him.

Thankfully though, before she does anything too stupid, there’s a disruptive click at the door. And Ai freezes at it. So does Hayami.

A strange teenager pushes open the door and walks in, a faint hint of caution in his eyes that fades into exasperation as he sees the two of them, comically frozen over trays of chocolates with icing pens in their hands.

‘Ah! Nooooo!’ Ai wails, half throwing himself across the table, arms outstretched – though he’s careful, Hayami notes wryly, not to actually crush anything. ‘Don’t look!’

‘Ai, you’ve been buying chocolate supplies and hiding them under the bed for the past two days. There’s nothing surprising about _this_.’

Ai’s eyes widened. ‘I...well, there’s not exactly a lot of places I can hide them in your cramped little apartment!’

The boy closes his eyes. ‘Maybe next time don’t start sniggering and keep darting looks under the bed whenever an advert for Valentine’s starts playing on the TV.’

His body language is closed, defensive, and when he next opens his eyes, gaze flickering to Hayami, she’s a little scared at how sharp his gaze is as it cuts right through her.

‘Why is she here, Ai?’

Ai, still huddled over his chocolates like a turtle, carefully tugs his apron off his head and drapes it over them all lovingly, hiding them from view with a few pats of his hands. Then he straightens and shrugs, a little too carelessly.

‘She literally bumped into me and recognised me! What was I supposed to do, say, ‘no, no, you’ve got the wrong AI?’’

The teenager's glare becomes downright poisonous, only this time, thankfully, he switches it onto Ai. ‘So you kidnapped her?’ His gaze trails over the odds and ends not hidden by Ai’s apron, all the messy bowls and abandoned water, still steaming away merrily. ‘You _need_ to be more careful. You can’t let a holiday distract you from your surroundings so much. You’re better than this.’

Ai has the grace to look a little embarrassed, even twisting an erratic curl around one finger as he nervously shifts a hand near his face. It’s such a human gesture that Hayami can’t help but stare. 

‘You’re right. Sorry, Yusaku-chan.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s my first Valentine’s. Well, first Valentine’s that I’m giving a serious effort for. I’ve never met anyone special enough to give chocolates to before.’

Yusaku steps closer, and Hayami doesn’t miss it, that strange softness in his eyes, so at odds with the stiffness of the rest of his face. Probably because of her presence, she realises, and yes, while Yusaku seems to step towards Ai, he still refuses to turn completely away from her, some part of him wired and wary.

‘You know giving chocolates is something girls normally do on Valentine’s. You could have waited until White Day instead.’

Ai gives him a look of sullen disgust. ‘Urgh, don’t give me that! White Day is to return the favours given on Valentine’s. I’m not waiting for non-existent chocolates to appear from you-’

Yusaku sighs, digs into his pocket and produces his phone. With a few quick taps of his fingers he then shoves the screen in front of Ai’s face.

Ai blinks. Then his eyes widen. ‘Eh? EEEHH!’ he practically yanks the phone out of Yusaku’s hands, his partner’s fingers slipping away like water, although the look on his face clearly displays his complete and utter lack of surprise at this theft.

‘I’m not getting you things you can’t enjoy, Ai. So here; an outline of a few programs I wrote. I know just the kinds of data you like to guzzle down.’

Ai stares at him and clutches the phone close to his chest. Giving it up as a lost cause, Yusaku turns to Hayami.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I really am. But I can’t let you know about Ai.’

Hayami’s heart quickly crawls up her throat and dies. Rather like a spider. Because this boy is obviously Playmaker, for who else would talk to Ai so familiarly? And doesn’t Playmaker care about human lives, otherwise he wouldn’t have done half the things he had for the Vrains network? So why would he prioritise an AI that he himself had killed...

Well. He obviously hasn’t, had he, not properly, otherwise Hayami wouldn’t be standing here, weak-kneed, fighting back the urge to scream at him, to beg him, to ask how, how can he do this, Akira _trusts_ him, and why is he letting an almost-murderer waltz round free as he likes-

Yusaku grimaces, putting an end to her trail of thought. Or perhaps he can just read them in her eyes. ‘Get on with it,’ he tells Ai grimly. Almost like a commanding officer. ‘But I’m not happy about it either.’

Ai pouts, and slides the phone back to Yusaku pointedly. ‘I don’t enjoy it either. I’m not a _monster_.’

Yusaku folds his arms, his mouth becoming a thin line.

Ai sighs irritably. ‘Fine, fine.’ He tilts his head at Hayami, gave her a small, cute smile, then steps forward, even as she backs away.

‘Night-night!’ he sings, fingers launching themselves gently against her brow, and the next thing Hayami knows, is darkness.

\--------------------------

Yusaku watches dimly as Ai freezes for a few seconds, his eyes glowing inhumanly with a golden sheen. Then one of Ai’s legs swings out, ankle hooking round a chair leg to yank it out so he can lower Hayami onto it. Though Yusaku rather strongly suspects that if he hadn’t been here Ai would have just let her slump to the floor like a rag-doll.

Or maybe he’s being a little too harsh here.

‘Is it done?’ he asks as Ai yanks the apron off from around her head and lets her hair fall free from its former white-cloth-bound imprisonment.

‘Yep,’ says Ai confidently. ‘She won’t remember the last hour or so. The information was recent enough for me to fiddle around and uh, delete without it interrupting any of her critical functions.’

Yusaku should really be disturbed about how Ai recites all this as though he isn’t messing around with a delicate human brain. On the other hand, he certainly prioritises Ai’s continued existence over the last few memories Hayami has made this afternoon.

‘How’d you find us anyway?’ Ai decides to ask, tilting his head over his shoulder and giving Yusaku a rather sharp look.

‘I’ve had trackers secretly sewn into the lining of your cape,’ Yusaku replies dully.

Ai spins round at that, fully startled. Then he frowns. ‘For a moment I almost believed you,’ he says grudgingly. ‘Or at least, I would have if I didn’t know how allergic you are to the upkeep of any garment out there.’

Yusaku sighs. He ponders upon telling Ai that he had left his tracking location on his phone on in his excitement; Ai is usually careful was when he’s busy sneaking around the world, but he still has the rather too human flaw of being scatterbrained when he got too wrapped up in enjoying his latest venture. However, judging by the looking of dawning understanding sweeping over Ai’s face, and the slightly embarrassed flush of his face that develops as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, he’s managed to work it out himself.

‘Ah. Whoops.’

‘Whoops’ indeed. But it still wasn’t good enough as far as Yusaku was concerned.

‘Ai.’

‘Oh come on, this is the first time it’s happened!’ He glares at Hayami. ‘I guess I really will have to end up carrying her at this rate. Urgh.’ Then he turns his glare to Yusaku. ‘No peeking!’ he declares staunchly, as he starts to fish under his apron for the hidden tray of chocolates.

Yusaku sighs and turns away, half-listening to the mattered curses and surprised squawks as Ai bats chocolates out of moulds and pushes them into tins.

‘Okay, you can look now! I’m _presentable_.’

Yusaku turns, only to see Ai leaning over a small collection go about twelve hearts, brow furrowed as he draws purple dog faces on them, deftly sketching out whiskers and ears. ‘Eh, there’s not enough space to draw Akira’s monster’s on here...and they’re way too un-cute for Valentine’s right? Guess I’ll go for the downgrade. These pooches aren’t as scary, but it’s not like I care enough to know what else Akira likes apart from his sister’s happiness.’

Yusaku blinked.

‘What are you doing?’

Ai gives him an irritable look. It’s the sort of look someone would gives a child that’s managed to spray crumbs everywhere. ‘I’m leaving her with a present. She might as well go home with something other than a few missing hours from her head.’

...Yusaku shouldn’t find this as touching as he does. Still. He’s not relishing having to clean all these bowls out, or at the very least, getting Ai to do so.

\--------------------------

Hayami wakes in the morning in a rumpled suit. Her kitchen is spotless and her stomach growls and yet, on the mat before her front door, is a bunch of chocolates, with a purple ribbon wrapped tightly round the plastic bag that displays them. She blinks at the tiny icing marks that help dipict the face of...dogs? She doesn’t even _like_ dogs.

She pauses and remembers the deck Akira likes to play with has a dog-like monster in it. She thinks. Maybe. So, huh. Maybe she does. after all.

But still. She’s missing time. And that’s worrying...but then again she can barely remember the frantic hours she wasted studying for various exams years ago, so perhaps it’s not that unusual for her. The purple decorations are a strange colour choice, but hey. Today she feels a little strange. Gathering her courage she picks it up. Steps out her door. And walks. And walks. She walks right up through the doors of her workplace without hesitance. All the way past people with their own little bundles and into Akira’s office.

‘Sorry, Zaizen,’ she says. ‘But I thought I’d bring you something other than coffee today.’

She plonks the chocolates on his desk. Almost turns and runs away in mortification. But forces herself still as Akira carefully inspects the chocolates and even, _wow,_ smiles a little when he sees the iced-on whiskers and strange wide eyes.

‘You think I’m a dog person?’

Hayami flushes. And feels all of five years old when he smiles some more and adds gently, ‘well, considering my deck, maybe you’re right. Thank you.’

But she feels like she’s flying as she practically waltzs back to her desk. Because Zaizen...Zaizen thanked her. It’s not much, but for Hayami, it is more than enough.

\--------------------------

‘Yu-sa-kuuuu.’

Yusaku sighs. Ai is sitting in front of him expectantly, in parody of a housewife attending her husband’s every wish, chocolates proudly unveiled before him. And they’re not bad, Yusaku can admit. Tactless decoration aside, they melt into the mouth with a gentle pop, a swallow and a gulp. And while he can’t say he’s fond of the violet cream, it’s better than the sharp nuts or almonds he had choked on one year when he had gotten a rare gift from one of the women at the therapy centre he had spent some time in.

‘How do they taste? C’mon give me a hint!’

Yusaku stares at Ai, at the way he’s leaning forward slightly in anticipation. He gets worked up about the silliest things, but then again, that’s not enough to stop Yusaku from leaning forward to kiss him with a chocolate-smeared mouth.

‘Heeey!’ Ai whines and wipes at his mouth fruitlessly. ‘That’s not an answer.’ Then he brightens. ‘Ooooh! Wait a minute, it is, it is!’

...He got there, eventually, Yusaku thinks, and promptly pops another chocolate into his mouth.

‘Careful, Yusaku-chan, you’ll get fat.’

Yusaku just stares at him. ‘Be quiet,’ he says finally, and then, more than content to follow his own demand, he bites into another chocolate. Yep, not bad at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaand we're done. I've had this written since December, but decided to sprunce it up for the theme, because I'm lazy.


End file.
